


Not What Scrums Are For

by trojanrubies



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Rugby, SO MUCH FLUFF, so much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:06:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trojanrubies/pseuds/trojanrubies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Modern Day A Song Of Ice and Fire AU in which there are scrums, tackles, fights, secrets, confessions, pizza, an idiot team captain, who really should know better, and the girl he never thought he'd look at twice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All my love to goldstraw, my wonderful beta, and to hatter, who won't let me not finish this.
> 
> I own nothing.

When they all moved up to the Upper Sixth the First rugby team was pretty much fully formed. Jaime Lannister was captain and centre forward, king of conversions and fluky drop goals. While the vast majority of the team had stayed there were still a few empty spaces in the team, so in the first games session of the year Jamie skipped practice to go and have a look at the new Lower Sixth. Mr Barristan was getting them to do drills mostly, a few exercises against the tackles pads and shields but nothing too strenuous. He had already ruled out well over half of the newbies when a latecomer arrived. Dressed in a loose hoodie and a pair of tracksuit bottoms that were far too short she had a good two inches on Jaime and her hair was half the length of his. Jaime watched curiously as she approached Barristan.

“Um, sir... I’m here for the... um... rugby session.”

“Ah yes, you’re the one the head told me about,”  said Barristan as he looked her up and down, cataloguing, as Jaime had, the broad muscular shoulders, boyish haircut and impressive height.

Even Jaime had to admit she looked to be in better form than most of the new rejects, and if she was halfway decent she was exactly what they were missing from the scrum. But she was a girl - a gangly muscular girl yes - but he was sure she would make far more of a storm on the netball pitch than the rugby one. Assuming Barristan would send her that way almost immediately, he leant back on the wall and watched the others again. One or two were panting like they might keel over any second but there were a couple that were still going strong. One kid with long dark hair was doing the best, but he was almost half a foot shorter than Jaime, and he wasn’t tall, not by team standard.

A shout of “Oi Lannister!” snapped him out of it and he turned to see Barristan pushing the girl towards him whilst holding the big tackle shield. Barristan handed Jaime the shield and said to the girl “If you can knock him off his feet and catch one of his long shots I’ll stick you in with the rest of the newbies, alright?”

“Yes sir.”

“Sir?” Jaime spluttered, incredulous, “You have got to be kidding me? She’s a girl.”

“I am aware of the fact, thank you Jaime. Now if you would please do as instructed.”

Without giving Jaime a chance to process what had just happened Barristan turned his back on them and stalked away.

“Right girl, just so you’re aware this is bullshit. I’m first team captain, and there is no way you are getting on my team. We can’t compete against anyone good if we’re handicapped by a pair of tits. Even ones as small as yours. Got it?”

He wondered for a moment if she was going to hit him but instead she simply spat through gritted teeth, “I don’t need your shit okay, we can compete against anyone if I say I’m okay with it. And I’m okay with it.”

“Well when you break something, don’t come crying to me,” said Jaime as he stalked off to the empty area of the pitch.

She followed grudgingly. It was like he could almost hear her sighing as she walked behind him. He stopped about fifty meters away from the others and gave her his most charming smile. “So do you want to try and knock me over first, I’m sure we'd both enjoy you getting me on my back. Or I could throw a ball or two at you? Which would you rather girl?”

“Please shut up,” she muttered her eyes boring into the grass. He smirked at her riled expression. _Oh, this was going to be fun._

“Which first?”

“Tackle.”

“Don’t hesitate do you girl? You know I love a confident woman,” he said as he pulled the strap up to his elbow and she took a few steps back to run at him.

Just before she set off he looked up and burst out laughing at her earnest expression. “God, you are actually trying to do it, aren’t you? There are three guys in the squad who can tackle me, and you are not one of them.”

“We’ll have to see about that won’t we?” she said, digging her studs into the grass and running at him. In the few seconds before her shoulder contacted with the pad, Jaime realised he may have made a slight miscalculation. He tried to switch his legs over to give himself a better stance but it was too late and the moment she made contact he went sprawling backwards onto the painfully hard ground, her hand trapped between his bare thigh and the pad. For a second she looked surprised too but then he spotted a satisfied smile on her lips where they rested inches from his before she pulled herself up, hand scraping along his skin.

“You were saying?”

“I wasn’t ready!” he insisted, which was true.

“Want to go again?”

“No, I think I’ve seen enough.” He dropped the pad and absentmindedly ran a hand across his back. _Damn she was strong, and tall. Damn her._

“Right, let’s see if you can catch or if you’re just freakish muscle,” he said, grabbing the ball and manoeuvring round so she had to look into the sun. No one ever said he played fair. As soon as she was too far away to hear his inappropriate jokes, he lined up the ball and kicked it. He never felt so alive than when his studs were digging into the grass and he was watching one of his shots soar.

His eyes left the ball and flicked back to her as it fell. Her stance was good, her hand position too. It was clear she had worked at it, and had gained her skill through hours of practice. As the ball fell into her perfectly placed hands, she kept moving and without hesitation launched the ball back at him. He ran forward to catch it, cursing her for actually making him work up a sweat. She didn’t even bother looking back over to him when he caught it, but just went straight back to Mr Barristan and the other boys to join in the main session. _Stupid girl._

Half an hour later when Barristan read out Brienne’s name on the list of the First Squad, the shouts of indignation were so loud that Jaime could feel the netball girls’ glares from across the field. Barristan ignored the rude comments and kept reading while Brienne went bright red.

“To those of you who have made the team, congratulations. To those of you who have not, the Seconds are a great opportunity and many of you should fare very well there. Right that’s it. Thank you boys, make sure all the balls and pads get back in the shed.”

Jaime got up and started ambling back towards the changing rooms before Barristan called to him. “Not you Lannister, and Brienne. Could I have a quick word?” Jaime put on his fake smile as he turned and sauntered back in that direction while Brienne jogged past him. Jaime grit his teeth; she was making him look bad.

“Lannister, Tarth – grab that ball for me would you?” Jaime rushed to grab it before ‘goody-two-shoes’ could. “You should both do very well this season but there are, as I’m sure you know, a couple of weaknesses that could be improved upon.” Jaime furrowed his brow. What he was saying was true, but this was captain talk, so why did he need to say this to the girl too?

“Yes sir,” agreed Brienne.

“Jaime, if I were to put Brienne in the front line of the scrum what would you say?”

Half a dozen answers sprang to mind, none of them kind, but he bit those retorts back. “Has she been in the front line before sir?” he asked, before turning his gaze to Brienne.

She flushed slightly, “A little but not as much as I would like.”

“You see my difficulty,” Barristan continued, “Brienne has the strength and stamina we need in that position, but not the skill.”

“I’m arranging practice for Tuesdays and Thursdays this year but I would like the two of you to do an hour or two on Friday. Jaime, you were prop last year so you can help her work on that and Brienne can help you build some muscle tone.”

“Sir!” exclaimed Jaime, more than a little put out. For starters Friday night was sacred and he had major objections to spending it with her. Moreover, his muscle tone was fine! Not as good as some but he made up for it with skill. This was ridiculous, he thought, he was the best player on the team and now Barristan was suggesting not only that he was weak but that a girl was stronger than him. That hurt, and more than he would care to admit.

“Do you have an issue with that Lannister?” asked Barristan. Jaime decided to admit defeat. One hour a week, he could do that.

“No sir,” he said with a tight lipped smile.

“Good, we’re sorted then. I have first years on Friday so I won’t be able to supervise but I’m sure I can trust the two of you to get on with it?”

“Yes sir,” they replied in unison, Brienne far more enthusiastically than him.

As they walked back to the changing rooms Barristan took the ball from Jaime’s hand and wished them a good evening, heading off towards the staff room.

“What the fuck,” Jaime muttered as soon as he was out of earshot. “He can’t be serious.”

“His idea has merit,” replied Brienne looking slightly scandalised at his rudeness.

“How is an hour a week with _you_ supposed to improve my muscle tone? You’re _not_ stronger than me.”

“We’ll have to see about that won’t we, Lannister?” she said, eyes sparkling. “Right now I want to get home, but maybe you should go to the gym and spend some time on the weights.” And with that she ducked into the empty girls’ changing room leaving him alone in the corridor with a retort dying in his throat. _Stupid bloody girl._

 


	2. Chapter 2

Practice didn’t start properly until the second week of term so Jaime assumed he was let off the stupid extra training. Even so it was a nice evening; September would be gone before long so instead of going straight home and getting ready to go out to the pub, he decided to go for a run and maybe go to the tiny school gym and get rid of some pent up energy on the punch bag for a bit. He could go to the pub later, Pyter and Hyle were both down there, as well as a few of the new Lower Sixth. It should be a good evening; most Fridays about half the squad made it to the pub for a pint or two and they always had a good laugh. This week had been a drag though, being back at school sucked, so - short run first.

Safe in the knowledge most of the school had left as quickly as possible at four o’clock he sauntered into the empty changing room and pulled out one of Cersei’s hair ties from his bag and tied his hair up in as manly a ponytail as possible. His threw on one of his old football tops (Liverpool) and dug his dirty trackies and worn trainers from his bag and put them on with no care what so ever for his appearance.

He was defiantly not looking his best when he ran headfirst into Brienne outside the changing rooms and, from the look of surprise on her wide face, she hadn’t been expecting to see anyone either. She was still wearing her school uniform with her sports bag slung over one large shoulder. She looked tired, and slightly murderous. Her eyes scanned down and noted the red shirt her mouth quirking up and then she stormed past him into the girls’ room without waiting for an apology, the door banging on the wall as she went. He smiled at her dour mood and jogged out towards the field. The rare late summer sun had changed the normally sodden grass from its usual mud-bath and running up the west side of the field he had to shield his eyes from the sunlight still un-obscured by clouds.

Twenty minutes later sprinting up the hill to the gym drenched in sweat, he saw her again. She’d changed out of her uniform into a plain white vest and the same tracksuit bottoms she’d been wearing on Wednesday. Her hair was loose falling into her eyes as her bound fists pummelled his favourite punch bag again and again and again.

She had her iPod in and didn’t hear him enter so he stopped to watch her for a moment. Her broad shoulders were taught and hard, the muscles in her bare arms rippling and trembling as she hit the hard leather over and over. She looked, all in all, like she had had the worst first week of term possible and as much as Jaime wanted to leave her to it he was incapable of just leaving someone like her alone _and_ she was using his punch bag so she defiantly deserved it.

“Oi! Girl!” he yelled, sauntering into her space. She turned, fists still raised to meet him head on. Her azure eyes were slightly wild and her breath was coming in short pants. He had to put his chin up to look her in the eye which was slightly disconcerting.

“Hi,” he said, giving her a huge grin. She sighed pointedly and pulled her headphones out, filling the space with a gentle rock beat that made him think of his poor neglected guitar.

“What Lannister?” she snarled, her voice the epitome of “fuck off before I make you.” “We don’t have practice today do we?”

“No. Firstly,” he drawled, refusing to rise to her foul mood, “I was hoping I could use the punch bag, when you’re done of course. Secondly I have to ask, what has it done to hurt you? You’re knocking the stuffing out of it!”

“Leave me alone,” she said rolling her eyes, pointedly, and taking a step back.

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence, “I’m just concerned for my new prop, isn’t that allowed?”

“If you were so concerned you would leave me alone,” she spat, unhooking the binding from her left hand and twisting it off, forcing him further out of her space, complete with a not-so-accidental jab to the chest.

He took a step back and kept talking, loving the pained expression on face as her gaze stayed stubbornly on the binding.

“Look it’s lovely that you’ve joined the team, but have you actually ever played on a men’s team before?”

“Yes.” Her voice was clipped and cold.

“Really? It’s just, it’s not exactly girl’s hockey if you catch my drift, not that you couldn’t take it. How tall are you for that matter? I’m just curious, is it more or less than Thor? Do you have a hammer? What’s the girl version of a hammer?” She dropped the binding from one hand and started on the other still not looking at him. “Would they not let you on the netball team? Unfair advantage I suppose, and well I’ve seen what you look like in a skirt, can’t say I blame them for getting rid of you really-”

“Shut your mouth Lannister,” she snarled hands balled into fists in front of her.

“No answers for me girl? That’s a shame.”

“My name is Brienne.”

“Lovely. Are you done with this?” he asked, head cocked toward the punch bag. She nodded stiffly. “Thanks.”

She made a move to go but paused. “Is there practice on Tuesday?” she asked.

“Yeah until six,” he replied looking at her over his shoulder, “that okay for you girl?”

“Yes and my name is –”

“Brienne, I know. I’ll see you on Monday Brienne.”

 

***

 

That week was entirely uneventful; all told, Jaime didn’t think he’d had a more boring week for years. He went to lessons, chatted with the guys, passed notes in maths and laughed at Mr. Barristan’s growing bald patch during practice. They started to think about the team for the away tournament in a few weeks. That was it. Nothing _happened_.

By Friday he was bored stiff and tired and sick of rugby practice and maths homework and why did he have to do essays for P.E. anyway?

Barristan however had made a point of ensuring that he and Brienne did the stupid extra practice and he even went to the effort of getting the ancient telly out and a couple of videos so they could look at perfect scrum technique and then try and emulate it.

Like last, Friday it was hot, too hot to be stuck doing drills but that was life now so he got changed and went to sit on the wall outside of the gym to wait for her. He didn’t use the hair tie this week, and he just put his kit on rather than the Liverpool shirt, he’d seen her judgemental little glance and anyway, it was full of holes.

She rocked up a few minutes later, also in kit. She didn”t look as grumpy as last week but that wasn”t saying much.

“Hey girl,” he said jumping off the wall.

“Lannister.”

“How’s about we go watch the stupid film, do the stupid drills and go okay?”

“Sounds lovely,” she replied voice dripping with sarcasm. He smirked as he followed her inside.

Following her up the stairs to the office, Jaime glanced up and came to the sudden realisation that the team issue shorts were _small_. They fit perfectly around her arse and left a shocking amount of flesh bare. Her skin was pale and smooth, the muscles in her thighs lean and tight. They were the kind of legs that would look pretty good on a supermodel, he thought wistfully, but then the thought of Brienne in a dress and heels strutting down a catwalk appeared and a burst of laughter escaped his lips.

“Something funny?” she asked turning round.

“Nope,” he replied as they reached the top of the stairs and he slid ahead of her into the office.

The telly sat on its stand against the wall in the tiny little room and there was no space for chairs. He shoved the tape in and pressed play and they stood awkwardly in front of it to watch the video and then headed back out onto the field.

It was still sunny and the tackle pad was boiling where it had been sat in the sun. At least the grass was dry. And rock solid.

“I know you can tackle” he said picking up the pad and fiddling with the strap, “and also I don’t fancy breaking anything on the weirdly solid ground, so say we go for a jog and call it a day?”

She looked at him for a moment, squinting into the sun.

“I”ll race you round the netball pitches and back?”

He paused. Well, he thought, it’s not like the girl was going to _win_. And then he dropped the tackle pad and sprinted.

“Oh fuck you,” she said as she tore after him. He made it up to the pitches and onto the narrow shaded path with her on his heels. She wasn’t giving up, wouldn’t let him slow down for a second. The path was narrow and dark, the sun had failed to get rid of the mud and the trees were overgrown on one side, the fence annoyingly close on the other. She tried to edge past him on the wooded side but he stepped in front and then again and again and again. She trod on his heels too and kept trying to get round the trees as they sped past. They were about halfway down when he realised that she wasn’t going to let up any time soon. He couldn’t outrun her and he couldn’t let her win, _damn it._

He sped forward a couple of steps and then stopped dead and pivoted to face her, one hand grabbing onto the fence, knees braced. It didn’t make a difference, she went careering into him and they fell in a tangle of limbs, his hands scrambling to break the fall, her face pressed to his chest and one of her legs caught in between his. He tried to roll over and get her off, to squirm out from under her grip but she was too heavy, too strong. The fall had knocked the breath out of him and she had recovered faster. She looked at him for a second, her weight pinning him to the ground and then she smirked and tried to get up but he pulled his thighs around hers and he managed to roll them so she was trapped between his thighs. He pushed off on the balls of his feet and tried to get past but she grabbed his ankle and pulled him down. He fell on his side this time, hair tangling in the weeds.

“Come on girl!” he gasped, legs kicking, “that’s not a fair fight! Either go for it or don’t!”

“I won’t hurt you Lannister,” she puffed, loosening her grip slightly.

“No?” he gasped, pulling his leg out of her grip and making a dash for it. This time he made it a few meters before she caught up stretching an arm around and forcing him up against the fence.

She held him there for a moment, her palms against his wrists, her breath mingling with his. He realised how quiet it was. How alone they were. Her face was mere inches from his, her stark blue eyes boring into his lips, close enough to kiss.

“Well,” he gulped, voice silky and measured, “Brienne, I won’t say no.” He blew her a kiss while she held his arms to the mesh above his head.

“Shut it.”

“Come on now,” he purred feeling her hand flex against his skin, “I’m too much of a man for you I suppose. Didn’t you leave the Grammar cause you had a thing for the gay kid?”

Her lips parted and he was sure she was going to hit him, her soft homely face twisted into a hardened mask.

“You’re incorrigible, and you really piss me off. You’re a misogynistic prick.” She pushed him into the mesh and stormed off.

“Hey!” he called after her as she ran. “What did I say?” But she was gone.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is only like half a chapter really but the other half wasn't ready and I owe you guys a chapter (like three weeks ago) so anyway here you go! As ever thank you to goldstraw my wonderful beta who has to put up with all my procrastination! Anyway here you go guys and sorry its so late!

Jaime avoided thinking about Brienne for most of the rest of the week. He ignored her sullen glances and the angry vibes. She was pissed. That was fine; most people spent a lot of time pissed at Jaime. He was used to it. He only really saw her in practice that week, and she made things difficult. The scrum kept collapsing, mostly because Ronnet Connington was refusing to hold Brienne’s waist properly and after the third collapse in ten minutes he called a stop and ordered the scum over.

“Sorry Jaime, it’s just we can’t get used to the new formation,” he wined.

“Bullshit. I really can’t be arsed. This should be fine. Ronnet it’s mostly your fault-“

“Hey dude that’s not-“

“Shut up. Brienne get over here.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Stand how you would in the scrum.”

She did so and a little part of his mind felt the need to comment on the teeny tiny shorts again. He placed himself next to her, where Ronnet normally was. “Okay right Ronnet what you are doing is this,” he said, placing his hand loosely around her waist, and pulled a face like he was a five year old in the playground that’d just lost at kiss chase. The guys tittered and Brienne just looked at him from under her eyelashes mouth in a hard line.

“What you need to do is hold her like this,” he said and his hand flattened against her abdomen and pulled her close, flush against his side, his hand splayed across her muscle fingertips ghosting the edge of her bra, holding her to him, his fingers ticking her skin through the thin cotton shirt.

“Think you could knock us over now?” he asked, glaring up at Ronnet.

“Nope,” he replied voice sullen and arms crossed.

He could feel Brienne’s blush without looking for it, her eyes were fixed on the floor and her legs were as tense as the muscles he could feel across her back. There was a moment where he felt her warmth next to him, grounding him, where he thought about dragging out the ordeal longer, taking Ronnet’s place in the scrum and getting the others to tackle them. A moment where he thought about how nice it was to hold her warm and close.

Instead he rose quickly and glanced back at her as she stood cheeks flushed, eyes wide and bright. _She does have astonishing eyes._

“Good,” he said turning back to the team and a surely looking Ronnet, “and now the first rugby team have been reminded what the key function of a scrum is shall we get on with practice?”

*

The rest of practice was pretty uneventful, and the scrum was pretty much sorted, the front line was finally holding and in the friendly against the seconds at the end of practice they won hands down, almost perfect score.

At the end of the game Barristan waved his tired and sweaty team over, Jaime in the lead as ever.

 “Jaime, things okay?” Barristan asked him as he jogged up.

“Yes sir.”

“Good, I just wanted to talk arrangements for the trip next week,” he said raising his voice slightly as the rest of the team gathered around. “We have the team sorted, and everyone can come, but I got a call for the hotel yesterday and cause we have two reserves we have one less room than I thought. Should be fine for most of you but Jaime –

“No, sir, not my captain’s room don’t take it from me,” begged Jaime thinking of the lovely single room that was about half the reason he agreed to be captain in the first place.

“Sorry, but you are going to have to share.”

Jaime could feel Ronnet, still pissed off about the whole scrum thing smirking behind his back. “Damn it. Who with?” he asked knowing already that there was only one spare bed.

“Brienne.”

The muffled laughter behind his back was almost too much to bear but he didn’t turn around to hit the smug git round the face. He gave a sharp little nod and refused to look at him, or glance to the side and see her reaction. He could guess it well enough.

Barristan had no such qualms, and noting the panicked look on her face he and asked her, in one of the most concerned tones Jaime had ever heard, “Brienne, if you have an issue, I may be able to arrange something but the hotel has all four of the teams staying so-“

“It’s fine, sir,” she answered, but her gaze stayed locked ahead refusing to meet Jaime’s eye or acknowledge the crude jeers behind her.

“Okay right lads,” Barristan raised his voice shutting them up, “if you could pick all the kit up I need to give you a letter with the exact times and details on it, so grab that from my office before you go.”

The guys traipsed off after Barristan and as Jaime bent to pick up the pad they left behind he feel into step with Brienne lagging behind.

“Sorry,” he said, shoulders shrugging.

“It’s fine.”

“I’ll try to be nice?” he suggested, eyebrow rising.

“No, you won’t,” she teased, smiling in spite of herself.

 _No,_ he smirked _, I won’t._


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay here you go chapter four! Thank you so so so much for sticking with me, I've almost caught up to the good stuff I wrote agggeeeesss ago so I might get better at updating. We can hope. Anyway the rating went up this chapter so um there's that.
> 
> As ever thank you so so so so so so sosososososososososoosooo much to goldstraw who is betaing this for me even though she has lovely fic to be writing (that you should all go read btw.) 
> 
> Thanks so much for your comments too <3

The bus left school as soon as the bell went on Friday afternoon. The whole team was in high spirits; the bus packed full of kit, testosterone and bad jokes. It was a two hour drive to the tournament and there were songs and laughter the entire way. Jaime had managed to get a seat on the back row next to one of the new lower sixth, a kid called Hyle Hunt who could kick almost as well as Jaime. He was good at rugby but he also came from the same school as Brienne and Jaime had plans to get as much gossip as he could from him to tease the girl with, or enough for the next three days at least.

All four teams were staying at the hotel before heading home on Sunday evening after a full weekend of play. One of the teams was from up north somewhere, called themselves the Wolves or something equally pretentious and looked exceptionally up themselves, in Jaime’s humble opinion. They had come down on the same bus as the eastern team, who apparently didn’t even have a name, just a huge picture of a stag on their matching hoodies. The final team aside from them were the Companions, from London. Jaime had met a few of the guys from there before. They were a bunch of arseholes, violent and mean, with no respect whatsoever for the ref or the rules. They played dirty and Jaime was almost surprised they’d been allowed into the competition– cheating bastards. He may have lost to them last time but that didn’t do anything to his opinion of them at all. Nope.

After the guys had managed to strong arm Barristan into stopping for MacDonald’s, they all sat on the bank at the edge of the car park stuffing the last fast food of the weekend into their mouths. Jaime sat himself down next to Hyle again and the kid smiled brightly. Out of the corner of his eye Jaime saw Brienne glance in their direction and then go back to her salad. She was probably already thinking of boring uninspired responses to any jokes Jaime might come up with later.

“Hi,” said Jaime by way of greeting.

“Hi Jaime,” he replied, one of the few guys on the team who didn’t call him Lannister, or _Captain,_ in that tone of voice that said he was never really going to be forgiven. (Okay so maybe two years ago he’d been the youngest member of the first team in over a decade and maybe he’d beaten the crap out of the old captain, but it wasn’t like they still had to be such dicks about it.)

Jaime leaned over and offered the kid a chip, pre-soaked in ketchup, as the best chips always were. He could get into the kid’s favour using his undeniable Lannister charm but food was faster and easier.

“Thanks.”

“You came from the Grammar right? I mean before you moved here?” asked Jaime, mouth full of chicken nugget.

“Uh, yeah.”

“So you knew that girl, right?” he asked nodding his head in Brienne’s direction.

Hyle smirked in a way that made Jaime highly suspicious. “Yeah, it was a small school.”

“Is it true she had a crush on a gay kid?”

“Uhh,” hesitated Hyle. Non-plussed, Jaime just raised his eye brows and waited. “Yeah, his name was Renly, he was rugby captain, head boy, whole works. Everyone thinks he was sleeping with the prop, some guy called Loras I think.” He shrugged. “But I don’t really know. I wasn’t on the firsts then.”

“Of course she had a crush on the head boy.” Jaime laughed, throwing his head back. He saw Brienne look over and he just smirked at her before letting her watch him offer Hyle another chip.

*

So for the three days of the rugby tournament, Jaime might have brought an unnecessary amount of clothes, and hair product. Shampoo was important; just because he’d be spending the day running round getting sweaty didn’t mean he had to _look_ like he was spending the day running round getting sweaty.

When he had finally hefted his bag up to the second floor room (the lift was broken – already), Brienne was there. She had claimed the bed next to the window, closest to the bathroom but furthest from the door and was sat on her bed doing homework. _She was doing homework. On a rugby tour._ Clearly she didn’t understand the power of the rugby tour in extending deadlines. Strange, strange woman.

“I’m going in the shower,” she announced, the moment he set his bag down on his bed, before grabbing the towel from the end of her bed and disappearing into the bathroom before he’d even drawn breath.

“Fine,” he muttered to the empty room.

Most of the guys were on his floor as well, but Barristan had ordered them all to stay in their rooms for at least an hour before going to each other’s rooms or down to the bar to meet the guys from the other teams. The coach was probably patrolling the corridor right this moment, control freak. So Jaime just sighed loudly and threw himself down onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. He’d never been very good at having to stay still.

By the time the girl got out of the shower he’d done fifty pull ups and was on his twenty-third push up. He’d stripped to his boxers and was dripping sweat. His hair hung into his eyes where he’d neglected to pull it back but he knew he could keep going much longer, if he wanted to. He wondered how many push ups she could manage. He pulled himself off the floor and grabbed his towel and then turned to the bathroom door. Before he got there though he realised that Brienne had forgotten to take clothes into the shower. She had emerged from the bathroom in the hotel towel and hotel towels, much like school issue rugby shorts, were not made for someone with legs as long as Brienne’s. He could see the water sliding all the way down her thighs and calves to the floor, and he wonder again how her legs were  so impossibly, gloriously long. And strong too. Freakish almost, but somehow not. Even flushed from the hot shower her skin was pale and bright, her hair shone and the freckles on her shoulders and her knees were begging to be touched. He wanted to take the drop of water from the nape of her neck and slide it from freckle to freckle until she was dry.

“What are you looking at Lannister?” she spat, trying to adjust the towel without it moving any lower or higher.

“Don’t be so defensive girl, even if you had tits, I wouldn’t dream of going near them,” he bit back, except he wasn’t sure it was true. At that moment, absurdly, he was very, _very_ glad he had a towel to hide his crotch.

He ignored her mumbled reply and half walked, half ran into the little shower, slamming the door behind him. “Fuck,” he breathed as his cock strained against his boxers, begging for attention. _“Fuck.”_

_*_

He shut off the shower and shook his head, splattering water all over the tiny bathroom, and grabbed the scratchy hotel towel off the floor. He hadn’t bought a change of clothes into the bathroom either. She would have to deal with it. He tucked the towel around his waist just loose enough to make her blush and sauntered out of the bathroom dumping his boxers on top of his bag before turning and meeting her decidedly unimpressed gaze, not that he didn’t catch her checking out his damp naked torso, ‘cause he did.

“What’s wrong with clothes, Lannister?” she asked, burying her nose and eyes back in her book.

“I find them very constricting, I like to be able to –“

“Did you actually bring any?”

“No, should I have? Does my nakedness bother you that much? I know you’re a virgin but -really – “

“Just put some clothes on, we don’t have long.”

“So close to the perfect sentence, my lady.” He glanced over at her and was rewarded with a bright unflinching gaze. “Alright fine, just don’t look up if you want to keep that whole innocent thing you have going on.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake-“

But he has already turned away from her and let the towel drop, his hair dripping all over his bag and rivulets of water cascading down his skin. He couldn’t tell if she was watching as he fumbled around for some clean underwear but he hoped she was. When he pulled his boxers on and turned to her there was no sign anything had happened except for a faint pink tinge to her pale cheeks and a very determined blue stare that would not meet his eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been way too long, forgive me.

The next day the tournament kicked off bright and early. Barristan had insisted that before their game with the Wolves at nine they had to get up and plan tactics for a while. At least he wasn’t making them train first. Small mercies. Once they were all in their kit he gathered them by the pitch and set out who in the squad would be playing which games. The tournament was split into two days with them playing the Wolves and the Companions on the Saturday and the Stags on Sunday morning, with a prize giving after lunch.  Two games in one day. Jaime sighed and wondered if his bed was missing him too. In their squad they had two spare players, one prop and one centre. That meant Brienne would probably sit one game out, and the other prop, Tytos, the other two. The centres would sit one game out each. Jaime was a fair leader after all.

Jaime zoned out a little while Barristan read the teams out for the day and only came to as everyone moved to go and warm up. Except Brienne. It took him a second to put two and two together but the way she was looking at the floor had to mean Barristan had only put her in one game. Shit.

“Brienne? You coming over? Warm up time, exactly what you want at eight on a Saturday morning right?”

“Why would he do that?” she said quietly, “I don’t know what else I can do,” she paused, “I deserve a chance.”She turned to face him, “I’m willing to learn and I’m more than strong enough you know that.”

“I do,” he insisted, “I thought he got that, it’s just-“

“First team,” she cut him off, “I know. I just want to show that I didn’t just talk my way onto the team, I want to show that I deserve to be here, that I’m as good as the rest of you.” Her earnest gaze cut right to his core, for a moment she reminded him of his sister, burning full of ambition and desire. Cersei was at Oxford now, a full year ahead of schedule. He fully expected her to take over the world one day. Yet he’d never seen that kind of drive in Brienne, it made him want to smile, but she looked so worried he didn’t let it pass his lips. Instead he reasoned through Barristan’s decision and tried to make her look a little less upset.

“Look, we’ve all had these positions since third year you can’t just pick everything up in a fortnight, that’s probably what he’s thinking.”

“Is that what you think?”

He paused. She was strong and graceful and talented, but she had only been on the team a few weeks, she had yet to pick up exactly how they did things, the specific quirks that gave them the advantage. “Yes.”

“Then help me,” she asked and this time he let himself smile at her as he led the way after the others.

*

_Fuck,_ he thought. _Ow_ _fuck_ _fucking_ _bastard had trod on his fucking wrist._ _Owwww_. _Shit_. He could feel the grass against his lips. Head to the ground he listened as the world slowly filtered back in. He must have blacked out for a second. _Arseholes_. He heard rather than saw the team rushing towards him and then there was a hand on his shoulder, “Jaime! Jaime! Are you okay?”

He blinked up at her and nodded as he tried to sit up, “bitch broke my arm,” he mumbled. Brienne abruptly removing her hand from his shoulder, he vaguely heard her talking to Barristan as Hyle offered him an arm and got him on his feet. Once on two feet he felt more with it, only the pain in his wrist where the utter arsehole had stamped on it was making him regret moving from his spot on the ground.

“Jaime,” Barristan asked appearing at his side with Brienne hovering behind him, “is it broken?”

“Yes sir.” He said as confidently as he could manage.

“Alright,” he said to Jaime, and then louder to everyone, “Game is cancelled, I’m going to take him to A & E, go back to your rooms get changed and don’t do anything even slightly dramatic for at least four hours. Hyle go let the other ref know.”

Clutching his wrist to his chest and breathing through his teeth Jaime followed Barristan out to the car park. He didn’t look back in case they saw the tears that had managed to escape his clear green eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

The bar in the hotel was small and stuffy, and filled with four rugby teams worth of teenage boys it was far more so. The bar was heaving and the staff had given up trying to ID everyone about half an hour ago, not that Jaime was drinking. He’d come back from the hospital dosed up on painkillers with a bright red cast on his broken wrist. Just thankful it wasn’t his ankle this time he’d tried to tell himself he could still handle hanging out in the bar for a bit, and he’d even managed to drag Brienne along. Except now his head was swimming, he’d lost most of his team and the Companions boys (aka the team full of unwashed fat blokes) had had far too much to drink. One of them was trying to nudge Brienne off her bar stool as he waited for his fifth beer of the evening, and his gap-toothed leer was putting Jaime off his coke.

“LESBIAN,” Jamie coughed loudly, as he moved to grope her arse.

“What mate?”  The guy slurred diverting his attention momentarily from the too visible curve of Brienne’s arse in the girl trackies.

“I said my girl here is the biggest dyke this side of London so I really wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Brienne turned and met Jaime’s eyes, one eyebrow rising, in an unspoken question.

The goon looked back at Brienne, gave her not-quite-flat hoodie a longing glance and fucked off.

“Phew,” Jaime said, “I thought he might have hit me, or you might have, cripple or no.”

“You’re not a cripple.”

“I am!” he protested, almost knocking her on the nose with his cast. Which made it twinge, painfully. She did the eyebrow thing again and they sat in silence for a moment, Jaime enjoying his coke and trying to work out if he should go find painkillers, while Brienne, the only seventeen year old on their team that didn’t want to illegally buy alcohol, stared at her orange juice like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Why did you tell him that?” She asked after a moment or two.

“Why did I tell him you’re a lesbian? You are aware you’re the only girl in a hotel full of teenage boys’ right?”

“Yes but I’m not –“

“Say it louder, they might hear you. Fine, but – I won’t tell if you won’t, for the next two days at least alright, will make life easier for everyone.”

And with that he sauntered off to join a few of the guys so he could wax poetical about not being able to play for the next two months.

*

Painkillers were wonderful, truly, truly wonderful, Jaime reflected, as Hyle escorted him upstairs back to their room. Not Hyle’s room, Brienne’s room. Girly’s room, not that she was girly but she looked girly sometimes.

“Yes Jaime she does,” Hyle agreed and Jaime hadn’t realised he’d been speaking out loud so after than he made a conscious effort to keep thoughts inside his head. When Hyle pushed open the door Jaime had expected to be greeted by the woman in question, already tucked up in bed in her stupid pyjamas, but there was no sign of her, the light was off and her bed still made.

“Where’s girly?”

“She was downstairs Jaime she’ll be fine, now are you gunna get some sleep or should I stay and keep an eye on you?”

“Stay. For a bit,” he mumbled, the combination of pain and drugs finally catching up to him. He was asleep in moments.

*

He stood alone on the pitch at school. It was dark, but there were floodlights on the far pitch. It was chilly, like an autumn night, and damp too, he could feel the mud squelching beneath his toes. He could see the school buildings in the distance and the rugby posts of the main pitch a little closer, but where he stood was dark and unlit, the only light too distant to change the oppressive shadow. From the darkness emerged a figure, then another then another, all in rugby kit with head gear and mouth guards. None had identifiable faces, but sometimes one looked like Cersei or his father or Aerys. He thought one looked like the guy from the bar, another like the one who’d broken his wrist but every time he tried to focus on one it would shift and change. He ran towards the school, but got no closer, in fact he only got farther away. He kept running harder and faster until he couldn’t see the school, or the posts. He was just a blip in the dark, lit by an unseen floodlight surrounded by faceless players.

“Jaime?” a woman’s voice called.

“Cersei?” he cried back, “Mum?”

“Jaime!” The voice cried louder, “Lannister, where are you?”

 _Brienne_. He span on his heels ignoring the wall of faceless men, willing her to appear.

He didn’t see where she came from but suddenly she was standing in front of him. She looked like she had last night after she’d showered. Her cheeks were pink, her hair soft and damp. She wore only the thin tank top and small loose team issue shorts that left far too much of her pale flesh bare and vulnerable. She looked more beautiful than normal somehow, more womanly than she did in the daylight. She had what could almost pass as breasts barley hidden under the thin cotton and there were rivulets of water running down her torso and sticking the top to her skin.

“Jaime,” she said, her voice soft with relief. “You found me.”

Then the floodlights came on, drowning him in white and he sat up in bed sweaty and shaking. His breath came out in pants, just a dream, just a dream.

There was a note on his lap from Hyle.

_I’ve gone to bed, I’ll come and check on you in an hour or so._

Safe in the knowledge he hadn’t been completely abandoned to his painkiller induced haze he flopped around with his left hand to find his phone, he flicked it on and read the time. 2 am. He turned the light towards the rest of the room and stumbled towards the bathroom. Halfway there he realised Brienne’s bed was still empty, still untouched. The most conscientious sleep-loving member of the team was not in bed at 2 am, and they had a game tomorrow.

Groaning he checked he still had his jeans and t-shirt on and pulled the door open. The corridor was dimly lit and there was no sign whatsoever that any of the other Rock boys were awake. He considered knocking on Hyle’s door and saying he was going to find Brienne but he’d only tell him to go back to sleep so he shuffled towards the lift on his own. His wrist was aching and his head still felt full of cotton wool but he was in far less pain and more with it than he had been earlier. Pushing the down button the lift he shuffled uneasily. It wasn’t like Brienne to not _be there,_ a whole bunch of extra practice with her and she had never once been late, had only missed the session once and told him two weeks in advance. _This_ , not like her, not like her at all.

Worry twisted in his gut as he jogged past the reception towards the bar. It was empty, no sign of anyone. “Where are you Brienne?” he whispered to the empty room. He turned and went back to the receptionist, “Hay, sorry to bother you but um are there any of the rugby guys still around?” he asked the guy behind the desk.

“Yeah, a few of the guys with the brown hoddies are still in the garden I think.”

“Thanks mate,” Jaime said jogging towards the door; brown hoodies meant Companions, drunk, aggressive Companions guys.

Out of sight of reception he broke into a full blown run down the corridor to the garden door. The hall was silent, everyone sleeping, but as he got closer he could hear the vague sounds of shouting and yelling. He pulled the door open with his right hand and was rewarded with a flash of pain to his wrist. Clutching the cast to his chest he heard the door slam behind him.

There was no sign of them just outside the door but he could see a light around the corner and then he heard a shout, “hit her harder than that! She’s not a girl? Are you bitch?”

He rounded the corner and was greeted with the sight of a wall of backs, making a ring around something, someone, two someone’s.

“Hey!” he called dropping his hand to his side, “what the fuck are you guys doing?” At that they all turned and looked at him. Most immediately turned back at a loud grunt from inside the circle and he still couldn’t _see_ dammit. One of them extracted himself from the circle and walked towards him, giving him a glimce of pale blond hair before the ring closed up again.

“You’re Rock’s team captain aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” He answered, on the defensive but not wanting to have to punch anything if he didn’t have to.

“Yeah the bitch on your team? Had to go home, got her period.”

“Her name is Brienne. Where is she?”

“You should let him look, I’m sure he’d give her good odds right?” One of them called over.

The guy grinned and pulled him forward and shoved him into the circle as the others made room for him. Tripping over the feet of the guys next to him his knee almost hit Brienne, she’d been knocked over, her knees were scrapping on the tarmac, her trackies torn, hoddie vanished, and she was trying to fight her way up against a guy who was about twice her size.

“This is her third bout,” the guy next to him said, “the other two went upstairs to lie down, ‘I’ll put a fiver on him if you’re up for it?”

Jaime didn’t even acknowledge him; he was already storming into the circle, pushing aside the guy who tried to block him. “Brienne!” he called to her and she looked up.

“Jaime,” she grunted as the guy pushed her again and she went sprawling. Jaime stepped in front of her and looked the guy in the face, fuck he was massive. Brienne pulled herself up behind him and tried to dart round but he kicked her legs out from under her and ducked a swing from the guy, falling to his knees across her waist. Pulling his left hand up he swung as well as he could and by some miracle managed to sock the guy in the jaw, not very hard, but still. Rocking back on the balls of his feet he grabbed Brienne’s hand and pulled her up as the guy went stumbling back into the other side of the circle. In the brief moment of confusion he pulled her through the wall of bodies and they sprinted towards the door.

“Oy!”

He heard the shout and sped up, Brienne’s hand clutched in his as he used his shoulder to get the door. They sprinted back down the corridor and upstairs to their floor, the door slamming into the wall behind them. By the time they had scrambled up four flights of stairs there were no longer any muffled shouts following them so Jaime stopped and paused for breath dragging in gulps as he felt her do the same.

After a moment propped up against the wall he felt the warmth of her hand where it was still clutched in his so he let go of and stumbled towards their room. He opened the door and she shuffled past him and slumped onto her bed. Shutting the door behind him he turned to face her. She was sat on the edge of her bed with her face in her hands, covering the blood and bruising he’d glimpsed as they ran.

Taking a purposeful step towards her he asked, “Brienne? Are you alright?” She didn’t meet his gaze, just dropped her hands to her sides and let out a long breath. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. _Oh god she had better not start crying on me._ He didn’t think he could take that.

“Stay there,” he told her, “I’ll get something to clean you up with.” He went into the bathroom and grabbed some tissues and ran them under the tap slightly, he wasn’t supposed to get the cast wet but he was sure a couple of drops wouldn’t hurt. When he came back out she was exactly where he’d left her staring at the floor. He knelt between her legs trying not to drip water everywhere and placed a hand on her chin and wordlessly started mopping up some of the blood. There was a nasty gash above her left eye that was swollen and still dripping. Another cut on her opposite cheekbone and a massive, if shallow, graze on her forehead. He mopped up the blood around her eye first then went to grab some more tissues for her cheek and forehead. She kept her eyes closed, her mouth pursing when he got to the graze.

“Those guys are arseholes okay?” he said quietly. Her eyes blinked open and she smiled weakly.

“Thank you.” She replied, the tiny upturn of her pink lips fading. He put a hand under her chin and gently put her head up to wipe her cheek, meeting her clear blue eyes.

“Why did you come and find me?” she asked, for once her gaze not flinching from his.

He wanted to say something stupid or cutting, she was probably expecting that, but he didn’t. He just looked her in the eye and said, “I dreamed of you.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, I know it has been literal years but I found this in an old folder and figured i may as well polish and post it while I had time. I think maybe two more chapter's to tidy up and round off after this. I am so sorry for abandoning this for so long, life got in the way, but I promise to finish this time.
> 
> As ever any mistakes are mine etc etc

**Chapter 7**

The next morning they did their best to avoid one another, or she did her best to avoid him and he picked up on her mood and decided to wait for the opportune moment to try and get her to talk, but patience had never been his strong suit. By the time they were changed and out on the pitch news of the fight last night had already spread to the rest of the team. Mr Barristan, as caring as ever, tried to make Brienne sit the last game of the tournament out, but that would have meant sitting on the bench next to Jaime for an hour and she wasn’t having it. Jaime kept trying to meet her eye, to get her to talk, but the walls he thought he had broken down were back up. Impenetrable again. Like when they had first met and she had barely spoken a word, forced into extra practice she begrudged.

The Sunday morning game with the Stags was scrappy and he could see the Companions across the field. Their game had started earlier so there had been no sign of them before this but he thought he could pick out the one who had pushed him forward, now he thought about it, that was the same guy who had tried to grab Brienne’s arse the night before. Sat on the bench he ached to go and take a swing at him, at them all, but in the cold light of day he knew that was a bad idea, a very, very bad idea. Brienne was doing her best to pretend nothing had happened, despite the bruises, and, even if he couldn’t work out why, he knew he should pretend, for her sake, that he slept through the whole thing.

Yet, even though the team knew she had been beaten up, no one offered her any sympathy, no one. If anything, the team, who were always a little distant towards her, were even more so. Avoiding her touch if not her passes. If he were on the pitch he knew he would stay close to her, fuck the game, and keep her safe. Which was absurd, he was in no position to keep anyone safe, but he wanted to. He wanted to hold on to her and make sure she was close and secure, make sure that nothing like that would _ever_ happen to her again.

Jamie watched the scrum collapse again and again and the again as the worn-out team played on. After the third scrum collapsed Jaime could see the tension in Brienne’s shoulders even from where he was sat, the way her fists were clenched at her sides, he could see the signs of frustration in the other guys too as they dug their studs into the no-longer-immaculate pitch at the refs whistle.

When the half time whistle went he jumped up and tried to grab her before she disappeared but she was too fast for him and then he was waylaid by Petyr and spent the rest of half time talking to the guys about what they could do better in the second half, switching into captain mode without even realising. The second half was better, eventually Hyle managed to grab the ball and chuck it up the pitch to Lancel. But there was no one for him to pass to; they had been too slow coming out of the scrum. Some huge jerk was bearing down on him and there was no one there.

“Lancel!” and there was no mistaking that voice, Jaime stood as Lancel threw the ball to Brienne. The guy who had been gunning for him swore loudly and ran towards her instead. Brienne was further away than he had thought, and all the Stags’ defence had been centred on Lancel; there was no one around Brienne. Brienne the Beauty, awkward and clumsy was going to score their third try of the competition and it was going to be beautiful.

They tackled her just as she got to the line but she made it anyway scrambling out of their grasp and coating her kit with mud. When the whistle went and she stood triumphant, there was mud in her hair and all down her thighs and calves, and the line of her stomach where her shirt had rucked up. Her eyes were shining and she had won the game for them and Jaime couldn’t help but smile.

After the game (23-14 to them) they packed all their bags up and trooped back onto the bus for the three-hour trip back to school.

 It wasn’t late but everyone was tired so it was quiet, most people plugged into music or fast asleep. Jaime for one was exhausted, the combination of a late night and injury finally catching up with him. He dozed off for an hour or so.

When he woke the coach was silent, everyone asleep or near enough. Brienne was sat in a window seat three rows up so he undid his belt and, praying she wasn’t asleep cause that would be really awkward, shuffled up the aisle and sat down next to her.

She rolled her head round on the seat to look at him and her brow furrowed in sleepy confusion. ‘Jaime, what are you doing?’ she said eyes slowly blinking out of her doze.

‘Sorry, did I wake you?’ He asked.

‘Not really,’ she replied her eyes slowly focusing on his nervous smile.

‘Good, I want to talk to you,’ he said, pushing closer on the seat and dropping his voice to a hushed tone.

‘No.’ she said, eyes suddenly hard.  ‘Let it go Lannister.’

‘Hey girly, don’t be like that,’ he implored, his left hand coming up as thought to hold her but ending up floating in the space between them.

‘Like what?’

‘All upset and morose, it’s not like you, weirds me out.’ He tried to make his tone light but he couldn’t rid his voice of genuine concern.

‘Not my problem Lannister.’

‘Please Brienne,’ he paused, ‘I’m worried about you.’

‘Don’t be, I’m fine, see?’ At that he studied her swollen black eye and the cut on her cheek and, ignoring her slightly pained expression, reached up and tucked a strand of sandy blond hair behind her ear, just above the angry red graze.

‘Let me worry.’ He asked, except it wasn’t a question, really.

For the first time that day he met her eyes, they were as blue as the ocean, truly beautiful and swimming in unspilt tears, he felt his lips part slightly as hers pursed and she bit her bottom lip.

‘Thank you, Jaime,’ she said, her eyes too unsure, her tone too wooden for him to think she meant it. ‘You’re a good friend.’ Her voice cracked but he pretended like he hadn’t heard it as she turned back to the window, ending the conversation with a roll of her fantastic shoulders.

He smiled at her back and retreated to his own seat, her words echoing round his head. _Friend_ , Jaime didn’t have friends, he had team mates and guys he knew and guys who thought he was a cocky shit. Now even Cersei had left him and gone to Uni, and he was lucky if he heard from her twice a week. He hadn’t had a proper friend since he’d beat the shit out of Aerys three years ago. After that no one had trusted him, and he hadn’t wanted to be trusted. He could play rugby and his car was useful for trips to MacDonald’s. He _knew_ the whole school knew about what had happened, and that they judged him for it. Jaime Lannister, the first fifth year allowed in the first team ever and he goes and beats up the team captain so hard he can’t play for a year. Since then he hadn’t let anyone inside his walls, not even Cersei, and now Brienne with her shy smile and stupid presumptions was making him feel like a second year girl. What should he care what she meant by friend, she was probably just happy he’d saved her from actually breaking anything. _That’s all there is to it_ he told himself. He wasn’t going to let her become a friend, even if she already had.

 


End file.
